


Flowers for Her Grave

by thecompletebookworm



Series: Rumbelle Showdown [14]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also I didn't bother coming up with a cursed name for Gideon, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Dramatic Irony, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Literally this is the AU where Belle sells Gold the flowers to put on his late wife's grave, Rumbelle Showdown 2020 (Once Upon a Time), not tagged for death because I thought it was clear she's not dead, season 1 AU, so you know she's also the "late wife"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecompletebookworm/pseuds/thecompletebookworm
Summary: Izzy knows that if the town could see how Gold still grieves for his dead wife, they wouldn't think he was a monster.  She savors those moments on Tuesday mornings when he comes into the shop to pick up roses for her grave and inevitably offers up little bits of himself.Round 3 of Rumbelle 2020 Showdown
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Rumbelle Showdown [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/246934
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Flowers for Her Grave

Izzy French didn't believe in luck, whether it was in the form of horseshoes, shiny copper pennies, or anything else. After all, she had little reason to. She was stuck keeping her father's flower shop afloat in a town she thought she'd never return to after she left for college. If there was any luck in the universe, Izzy would be a librarian somewhere by now. Her mother wouldn't have died of cancer when she was six, leaving her with a man who couldn't care for himself, let alone her. Papa would stare blankly ahead for months, his hand on his drink, his mind on his dead wife, and not on the little girl who needed him. 

So Izzy had made her own luck. Even when her heart ached for a simpler life, one that didn't involve cooking lessons from Granny or sitting with her homework at the flower shop counter, learning geometry as she cut roses, she kept going. She kept herself afloat and grew up fast like the heroes in her storybooks, although Izzy hoped only to see the world and for a library of her own to run one day instead of magical powers or grand adventures. (Secretly, Izzy thought she deserved powers, a little compensation from the universe for the hand she'd been dealt, but Izzy knew fairness like luck and magic was nonexistent.) She'd thought she'd done it for a while, found a way to force the world to work in her favor. But then Papa had his heart attack her Junior year of college and everything she'd so tirelessly built came crashing down. 

Still, not everything is bad, Izzy thinks to herself as the bell on the shop door rings. She wipes her hands on her ragged jeans and looks up at her Tuesday regular. He's been coming here every Tuesday for as long as she remembered, precisely at 11:30 like clockwork. Most people would be frightened of Mr. Gold given his reputation (a reputation she's sure he's helped manufactured), but Izzy can't fear a mourning man though. 

Gold looks better than usual today. His fingers are still white from how tightly he's gripping his cane, but his limp is less pronounced today. His hair frames his face, instead of completely covering it. He has a blue pocket square, as opposed to a black one. There are a hundred little things that let Izzy know today is a good day, or at least as good a Tuesday as she's ever seen. 

"The usual, Mr. Gold?" She asks with a smile. It's not hard to smile at him on good days. On bad days, she barely forces herself to. A part of her just wants to hold him, cradle him to her chest and never let him go. She can't explain why. Their interactions are short, and he's never sought her affection. But still, Izzy wants to give it to him, wants to know him. 

"Do you have anything a little brighter today?" Gold doesn't meet her eyes. He never does.

"I'm sure we can find something. Otherwise, we always have your roses." She turns her back to him and lays out the blue paper for the bouquet before she asks her next question. Their relationship has always been an odd one. He occasionally offers her answers that make her own heart twist in her chest, but she can carry some of his pain, especially if he offers it so hesitantly, coded in answers to a simple question. 

"What sort of flowers do you have in mind?"

"She was wearing gold the day we met. She looked radiant, like a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness, and her smile..." Gold trails off as if he remembers she’s still listening. 

Izzy doesn’t push him; she never does. She knows the rest of the town hasn't heard Gold talk about his wife because they would never be able to believe he was a heartless monster after that. He speaks so reverently. 

"If it was summer, I'd recommend sunflowers even if they are untraditional, or more so because from what I'd heard she'd like untraditional." She sees a tentative smile. "However I think daffodils will do nicely." 

Every Tuesday Izzy waits with a bouquet of roses at the ready. Occasionally, he’ll need delphinium (because they remind him of her eyes), daisies (because she always insisted they were lucky), snapdragons (because she’d drag him into their garden to dance barefoot as soon as they bloomed) or lilacs (because they’re her favorite). But most of the time, it’s red roses, a symbol of both love and the first gift he ever gave her. He offers these tidbits tentatively, but Izzy treasures them. 

When school is out for the summer, his son joins them, a little boy with deep brown eyes like his father. Gold speaks little of his dead wife when Gideon is around, always staying strong even on the days when Izzy just wants to usher him into the backroom so he can just sit and cry in peace. Not that he’ll take her up on the offer for even something as simple as tea. They keep going, their lives completely separate, except for every Tuesday when Izzy finds herself falling a little more in love with a man who loves so deeply that he’s already buried his heart. 

Until suddenly their lives aren’t so separate anymore. 

Gold practically races into Game of Thorns as soon as it opens, the door slamming behind him. Maybe it’s because she isn’t properly awake yet, but Gold looks different. He doesn’t lean as heavily on his cane and there’s a certain swagger in his step. But mostly it’s his eyes. They’re the happiest she’s ever seen them, like he’s found hope again. He studies her face desperately. If Izzy didn’t know any better, she’d think he was trying to memorize it. 

“I’m surprised to see you here on a Friday, Mr. Gold.” 

He gives her a half-grin. “I simply couldn’t wait.”

Izzy wonders what sort of day it is that he needs flowers so desperately. She searches for memory for anything important. She’s clung to the dates the way she clung to his flower choices; everything just seems so important. But there’s never been a day that makes him this happy. All of the dates with his wife - their anniversary, their first meeting, their first date, her birthday, the day she died – those days make him shrivel into himself. This is something different. 

“There seems to be a newcomer to town, a Miss Emma Swan.” Gold stares at her intently. He looks her in the eyes despite always avoiding the eye contact before.

Izzy taps her fingers against the counter. She feels like Gold just said something important, like he’s telling her the secret to her happiness. And she wants to remember desperately but there’s nothing there. Just the beginnings of a headache. 

“Belle?” He whispers the name like a prayer, speaking as reverently as he does when he’s talking about his wife.

Izzy’s confusion evaporates instantly. She wants to scream. He’s been here every week for years. She’s practically fallen in love with him and he doesn’t even know her name. 

She points to her name tag far more aggressively than strictly necessary. “Izzy. My name is Izzy. Not even my father calls me Isabelle anymore, and no one’s ever called me Belle.” 

He steps away from the counter like he’s been burned. “Of course, Izzy. I didn’t mean anything- I just…”

She’s seen him lose his focus before, heard his sentences trail off in a million different ways. But this time feels different. In the past, Izzy knew exactly where the pain was coming from, a small grave covered in flowers and books, a life half-lived, and a grieving family. She understands that sort of pain. She’s prepared flowers for every funeral in Storybrooke since her own mother’s. This pain is something completely different. 

When Gold leaves just as quickly as he came, Izzy can’t help but feel like it’s her fault. When he doesn’t come to the shop on Tuesday, her guilt grows.

On Wednesday, Izzy leaves her father in charge of the shop (It is after all his shop even if it would be bankrupt without her. He can handle a few hours.) She grabs the bouquet of roses and marches toward Main Street. She figures it’s late enough that Gold will have dropped Gideon off at school and returned to his shop. 

Izzy pauses outside, the sudden reality of the situation hitting her. She has never entered his domain before, even when the show windows contain something that piques her interest. Their friendship has always been a fragile thing, stolen hours when a broken man allows himself to be seen. It didn’t seem fair to force that sort of thing on him. But still, even though Gold knows nothing about her, she can’t let him run away from this. _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._ Izzy forces herself to push the door open.

“I’ll be with you shortly“ Gold exits his backroom at the sound of the bells, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees exactly who his new customer is. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to see her. Part of her wants to laugh at the comical look of shock on his face, but she’s far too nervous for that.

“I thought you would want these.” She holds up the flowers weakly. 

“Izzy.” This time it’s her name that’s said like a prayer like it’s something special, like she’s special. 

“I didn’t like where we left things last week.” Her voice is small and hesitant. She wishes she’d thought this through more. Izzy had just acted. 

“I didn’t either. I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome back.” 

Gold shifts his weight from side to side and she briefly wonders if that hurts his bum leg at all. 

“Of course, you’re welcome back. What would we do without our number one customer?” 

The smile he gives her doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Would you like to stay for a while? I have tea in the back.” 

Izzy agrees without hesitation, because even though there’s something new between them, this is what she’s always wanted. 

Tea comes more often after that and the conversations get easier. Izzy hears him laugh for the first time at a silly joke she made, and it feels like there might be a chance for them after all. They talk about everything, books, music, art, but the conversation always swings back around to Gideon. The boy is seven and the brightest part of his father’s world. Gold seems desperate to share every bit of Gideon’s life with her. She learns how much he loves history and sleeping in dinosaur footed pajamas, how he only eats his sandwiches with the crust cut off and how he follows around Henry Mills like he’s a prince. 

"He’s a good kid." Izzy remarks after hearing another of the boys’ fantastical adventures. 

"Remarkable considering who raised him." 

It’s meant as a self-deprecating joke, something easy to laugh at and move on to the next story of Gideon attempting to build a castle large enough for his dolls or his attempt at making pancakes that ends up with more batter on the kitchen counter than in the pan. But she can’t let this go. There’s something broken about the way he says it, like he actually believes it.

Izzy doesn't know why she leans toward him, but Izzy cups his cheek like she's done it a million times before. "You know as well as I do that there’s always the possibility to be better than our parents. Their actions do not define us.” 

“Aye” He whispers back softly.

She’s close enough that she can see the tears in his eyes, the genuine gratitude in his tentative smile. She wants to close the last little gap between them, press her lips firmly against his. 

But his wife’s ghost between them makes those last few inches feel insurmountable. 

* * *

The earthquake shakes the flower shop. Only a few of the vases broke, so overall not too bad. It’s ridiculous that Storybrooke even had an earthquake but it’s a passing curiosity, something to explore in tomorrow’s paper. Truly, Izzy would have been able to go about her day if it hadn’t been for Gold bursting in looking out of his mind with worry. 

“Gideon. He’s gone. I can’t find him.” The poor man is close to hyperventilating, barely keeping himself upright. “I can’t lose him. I can’t do this again.” 

Izzy hugs him tightly to her. It’s meant to be reassuring, to give him something sturdy to hold onto, but for some reason, she doesn’t know how she’s still keeping herself upright. 

When his breathing finally slows down slightly, she reluctantly releases him, taking his keys and ushering him to the Cadillac. 

She can’t explain the ache that’s going through her own body. Every inch of her feels like it's screaming, but she needs to be the calm one for this. 

Izzy drives to the newly formed sinkhole on the edge of town. The crowd is already fairly large. Sheriff Graham and his new deputy are already hard at work trying to find a way to rescue Dr. Hopper, Henry and his little shadow, Gideon. 

Despite her small stature, Izzy can’t find a hole small enough to sneak through. She knows it’s dangerous, but she would gladly contort her body into whatever shape necessary just to get her son back. 

No, her mind corrected. _Gold's son._

All the stories in the world don’t make you his mother. You've only met the boy a few times. You need to stay strong for him. 

_He's already lost one child; he can't lose another._ Izzy doesn’t know where that last thought came from. Gold never told her about another son, but she knows. She’s never been more certain of anything. 

So Izzy cradles him and whispers soothing words as they wait. She asks the necessary questions when it’s clear Gold’s worry for his son makes him more prone to violence toward the mayor than usual. Something neither of them needs, because for once, they’re on the same side. 

When Emma is hoisted the last few feet out of the elevator shaft, two scared boys clinging to her, Gold’s face is positively alight with love for his son. Gold must not be thinking about his own limitations, because he runs and picks up the boy like he’s still a small child, cradling him close and peppering his face with kisses. 

Izzy tries to stand as close as she can without intruding on the moment. This is not her family as much as she longs for it to be. Gold has a wife. Yes she lies in a cemetery with flowers Izzy helped pick out, but there’s no doubt in Izzy’s mind that Gold still loves his wife. Izzy can’t replace her, and she fears how much she wants to. Even now, despite not knowing him, Izzy longs to embrace Gideon too, to check over every inch of his body to make sure he is truly okay. 

Maybe one day, they can be a family, she thinks to herself as she trudges back to the car. One day she’ll be worthy to stand in his wife’s footsteps. But for now, Izzy counts herself lucky she gets to stand so close, lucky for tea with Mr. Gold and stories of Gideon. 

**Author's Note:**

> Intended Author's Note that had to be cut from Showdown submission since I was already over the word limit: I'm a sucker for Season 1 AUs, so when I struggled to come up with an idea for this round, that's what I fell back on. Also I love dramatic irony. In my mind, this takes place in the same universe as the previous round's fic, although it can stand by itself. Really this just needs to take place in a universe where Belle was never captured by Regina and their relationship progressed in the dark castle. The Dark Curse was also potentially cast later than normal (OUAT timelines are tricky, but I think that Belle's imprisonment was roughly six years although I recognize it could fall anywhere within the 2-8 year range), since Rumplestiltskin would have needed more time to manipulate Regina into making sure his family was protected, would have been distracted by Belle and Gideon and would have helped Belle pour through the research on other ways to get to the land without magic. Also I used Izzy instead of Lacey as this is a very different cursed persona and it didn’t feel right calling her Lacey. 
> 
> Author's Note all these months later: I put off posting this here because when I first wrote it, it felt like the story had more to it. There were a couple of requests for more and I didn't feel like I could actually post until I had more. I realize that I'm proud of this as is. It can stand alone. If inspiration strikes, I'll write about Izzy waking up or even just interacting with Gideon, but this story is still worth sharing even if it doesn't cover everything.


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